


What We Keep

by stardropdream



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: It's different now to be in his childhood bedroom like this, Victor down on his knees and looking up at him like this. Different from the faraway looks of the posters, Victor posed and looking anywhere but at Yuuri.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyy, first time writing yoi so that's fun... Expanded and edited from a tumblr prompt request, but apologies for any wonkiness as it's my first time writing for this fandom. Whee. In terms of timeline, should anyone care, I anticipate this somewhere mid-series.

There are moments like this – moments Yuuri once thought this room would never see. Moments that a young, longing Yuuri never would have let himself imagine with any true hope. But it’s like this, now – Victor on his knees and looking up at Yuuri like he’s a promise, like he is everything. Victor, hair in his eyes but eyes so soft, mouth curved up into a small smile that promises too much. And Yuuri, looking down at him, willing his hands not to shake when he reaches out and touches him. Victor’s eyelashes fluttering, his mouth curving up more. 

It moves like this—

When Yuuri sinks his fingers into Victor’s hair, Victor groans his appreciation. Yuuri feels himself blush at the sound, at the way Victor rolls his body forward, mouth slack, looking up at him through his bangs. There was a time when such an action would have embarrassed him, would have made him have to close his eyes and avoid the heaviness of that gaze, the position they’re both in. Now, he feels himself shiver in anticipation at the unwavering look, at the undeniably blue of Victor’s eyes as he looks up at Yuuri, sucking down his cock with a fierce sort of determination. Yuuri tightens his hold on his hair, can’t help it – and Victor groans again, louder and hitched up this time. Yuuri feels it rattle through him, up his spine and to the base of his neck, and he shivers again. His breath goes haggard at once, his body thrumming with need, desire – to think, that this is his. To think, that they can be like this, together. 

Hasetsu always seemed so quiet and so distant – and now, like this with Victor, every time like this with Victor, he feels himself snap down into one point of focus. The world dissolves away and there is only Victor. Victor’s smile, his eyes, the way he looks at Yuuri and only at Yuuri. The way he, stubbornly, never looks away – anticipates the request that Yuuri doesn’t need to voice. 

“Victor,” Yuuri whispers instead. Once, the sound of his voice like this might have flustered him, too – the dark threads reedy in his throat, desire thick and noticeable in so few syllables. And Victor makes a soft, keening sound in response – that sound he makes when he wants – _needs_ more from Yuuri. For all Victor jokes about Yuuri’s stamina, Victor always draws it out of Yuuri – demands more and more. 

So Yuuri twists Victor’s hair up, tugs Victor forward so that his mouth sinks deeper onto his cock. Yuuri ducks his head, groaning, but Victor keeps looking up at him, twisting his tongue up along the curve of Yuuri’s cock, suckles around him. 

Yuuri glances away and his eyes lock on the poster of Victor on the far wall – a poster with Victor’s body curving up, arms above his head, chin tilted. He’s beautiful in the picture, a poster that hangs in many rooms across many countries. Yuuri studies it for a moment, his body shuddering as Victor twists his tongue around the head of Yuuri’s cock. 

It’s a strange moment, looking at a distant Victor while the real one kneels in front of him, lets out a low whine that Yuuri’s attention isn’t on him. Yuuri combs his fingers through Victor’s hair absently, jerks his hips forward. The side of his smile tilts up when he hears Victor give a gurgled sigh of pleasure at the movement, bobs his head forward, hands cupping Yuuri’s hips. 

Yuuri, though, feels at once in one place and another – knows himself from years ago staring at these posters and dreaming, and how differently it feels now to lean forward and feel his fingers slide through Victor’s hair – thinner than he’d ever have guessed, wispier and soft. 

It’d been strange, too, the first time Victor had come into this room, looked around at the bare walls and seen the patches of darker paint on the wall around sun-bleached green. The ghosts of posters that once hung there, and now unseen. Victor had laughed as he strolled around Yuuri’s room, looking at the memorabilia to childhood, old clothes that no longer fit, old trophies tucked away into the closet, the unwashed, faded sheets, the nubs of old erasers still with their cartoon character wrappings. 

Victor’s smile had gone soft as he looked around and then turned back to look at Yuuri, who’d hovered in the doorway terrified of what he might say. But Victor never said anything, just seemed pleased to be there, to have been allowed to cross into this space. 

Later, after they’d inevitably tumbled into the bed together, kissed and kissed in a way that felt unendingly, Victor had said into the quiet of the darkened night, the lamp already extinguished for the night – “I like seeing this side of Yuuri.” 

It’s different now, like this – Victor looking up at him, and only him. Different from the Victor in the posters, who only ever looked through Yuuri or anywhere but at Yuuri. 

Victor now shifts a little, sitting up further, hands flexing hard at Yuuri’s hips. He suckles around him, twists his tongue again. And Yuuri goes breathless, body arching a little, and he looks back down at Victor to see that Victor’s gaze hasn’t wavered – looking up only at Yuuri, the way he knows Yuuri loves. 

Breathless, mouth parting slightly, Yuuri rocks his hips forward and asks, “Can I move more?” 

Like this, Victor can’t nod and can’t speak very easily, but his eyes flicker a little, eyelashes lowering as he peers up at Yuuri, and he groans out, shifting closer on his knees. Yuuri thinks distantly that he should have set a pillow down for Victor, if he was going to be in this position so long, but the thought floats away just as quickly as Victor sinks down pointedly against Yuuri’s cock, swallowing around him. 

Even after all these months together, Yuuri never put all the posters back up again. A few found their way back onto the walls, mostly at Victor’s delighted insistence. Yuuri had hesitated, not wishing to fuel that ego of his. He’d elected to hang a couple if only to keep Victor from whining about it – and purposefully kept Victor’s favorites tucked away into his closet, just to be contrary. 

Yuuri groans, grips his hair tight, and pulls his face forward, rocking forward to meet him. He moves more certainly now, knows the confidence that makes Victor shudder like this, knows to act more confident even when he can’t feel it fully. Like this, though, it’s easy – to look down and find Victor seeing only him, seeing Victor in this way and being the only one to do so. The only one who can hold Victor like this, hear the sounds of his slick tongue, the groans hitching in the back of his throat, the groan at his body when he’ll finally lift from his knees, the way Victor’s hands grip Yuuri’s hips so tightly, as if trying to keep him there for a moment longer, just a moment longer—

“Go faster,” Yuuri tells him, voice graveled out and strained, needing, always needing – and gripping his hair, pulling him forward. Victor’s hands flex at his hips, tug him forward to meet him as he bobs his head forward, swallowing down around his cock. They move faster now, Yuuri alternating between staring at the far war and that poster, and down at the real Victor here before him. Telling himself, again and again, that this is his – that this is no one else’s. 

_You’re mine,_ he thinks and does not say, covets it – knows that, in the end, it might never actually be true but is willing to wish, willing to believe— 

Tightens his hold on Victor’s hair – twists and yanks and Victor keens out happily, scrambles closer and works harder, faster, desperate now to get Yuuri off. Yuuri thinks to himself that this is what he wants, always – to have Victor need him, want him, to always be reaching for him, fingernails digging and leaving marks, the taste of him on his mouth. 

Thinks, _Let this be mine – if only for a little while._

Thinks, _Mine._

His fingers flex. Victor groans, tilting his head, dragging his tongue hard down the length of Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri watches him, moans out quietly as Victor moves – holding him tight, guiding him forward, his, his, his—

His—

No one else. The world might have these posters in their rooms, might long to have Victor again, but in this moment, like this – this is only Yuuri’s, this will only be Yuuri’s. Victor’s eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed, mouth parted and stretched around Yuuri’s cock, the bob of his throat, the slide of his tongue, his hands gripping Yuuri like he’s afraid he’ll disappear. 

It’s all his. 

When Yuuri comes, Victor anchors him close, swallows down around him and drinks him down, his mouth soft and open, his tongue sweeping. Yuuri shudders, his entire body feeling taut and arched, holding tight to Victor. 

Victor looks up at him when he draws back, his hands sliding over Yuuri’s hips, his thighs – looks up at him and smiles, looking pleased. 

“Ah,” Yuuri says, fumbles every time Victor does this, that confidence evaporating like mist, “Thank you—?” 

And like every time, Victor chuckles and presses a sloppy kiss first to Yuuri’s hip then his stomach. Then creaks up to his feet, groaning a little as one of his knees pop after the length of time in that position. 

Yuuri reaches for him, cups his cheeks and draws him in – kissing him slow and soft. He can taste himself on Victor’s lips, his tongue, and it makes him shiver, feels the blush rising up his neck and settling on his cheeks. Victor makes a soft sound into the kiss, murmurs his name, curls his arms around Yuuri and pulls him up close to him. Yuuri holds on. Doesn’t let go of Victor. 

His. His, _his—_

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on [tumblr.](http://stardropdream.tumblr.com/)


End file.
